


To Admire From Afar

by dementxa



Series: From A to Z (ZevWarden Week 2020) [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: But He Will Get the Guy Don't Worry, I Promise I'll Do Better, Light Angst, M/M, Mostly Introspection On Zevran's Part, Romance, This Story Is a Mess Sorry Guys, Tumblr Prompt, Unrequited Love, he's a sad boy, not really - Freeform, zevwarden week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25037779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementxa/pseuds/dementxa
Summary: This is based on the prompt for ZevWarden week, day 1 - admiration. Zevran muses about how he came to fall in love with the Warden, Anophis Mahariel.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Male Mahariel, Zevran Arainai/Male Warden
Series: From A to Z (ZevWarden Week 2020) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813306
Kudos: 9





	To Admire From Afar

Zevran woke up to a sight that had become rather intimately familiar to him: a pair of dark, wet, nostrils, blowing a toxic gust of air right in his face. Releasing a low groan, he swatted at the mabari before turning to face the other way, pulling the blanket over his head.

Varawen didn't appreciate being ignored. He huffed, then whined, and then started pawing at Zevran's back. The tips of his claws lightly dragged over Zevran's body; not enough, to cause pain, yet a blunt reminder that this was a war hound, bred to kill and maim, and so testing his patience could prove fatal. Admitting defeat, Zevran kicked the blanket off himself and turned to face Varawen.

"It's far too early, my stinky friend! Could you not have given me a few more minutes of sleep?"

"Woof! Woof-woof!"

The hound began hopping in one place, spilling drool everywhere and wriggling his stubby tail. Such wild excitement could mean only one thing: the Warden had returned.

Despite his best efforts, his lips stretched into a smile. Zevran got up and began looking for some clothes. The process of getting dressed took remarkably little time; he'd quickly let go of his habit of sleeping in the nude once the cold Fereldan nights were upon him. Though, Zevran thought sourly, the thin layer of clothing he slept in was hardly an improvement. No wonder these Fereldans were such cold, bitter people!

Shaking his head, he proceeded with the last, but favourite, bit of his outfit - the boots. His new boots, made from Antivan leather of the highest quality. What beauties they were! So masterfully crafted, with perfect stitches, a sturdy outter part which shielded him from the elements, while the insides were softer than a lover's kiss. And they were his! How sad, that the most precious gift Zevran had received came from the man he was supposed to have killed a month ago.

Varawen had been waiting for him, sitting on his hind legs and watching him. As Zevrn continued to admire his boots, the mabari ceased his panting for a moment and stepped forward, nudging him with a cold snout and breaking him out of his trance. Zevran chuckled and shooed him away once more.

"Allow me a few moments more. Tonight was a hard night for me." And a lonely one. Sighing, he tied his boots securely and then ran his fingers over them one last time. Such good leather! Sighing once more, Zevran stood up and finished his outfit by tying his hair in a tight bun at the back of his neck. "Alright, I'm done. Let us see if my handsome warden missed me."

Varawen didn't even wait for him to finish talking. He bolted out of the tent, followed by Zevran at a much calmer pace. It was still quite early, the sky was a dull grey colour, with only a faint glimmer of light in the far distance. The camp was mostly, only a few people were up and about. Alistair was with Bodahn, looking through his newest wares. He always insisted he was only looking for a better blade, but everyone knew his actual objective was finding toy horse to go with his toy knight. Leliana was up as well. She was kneeling by her tent, facing the dawn and praying, as she always did. And of course, his Warden, his handsome Dalish warrior, sat by the fire.

Varawen rushed towards his master, though Zevran suspected his enthusiasm was not spurred by loyalty. There was an entire elk, skinned and cleaned, being roasted on the campfire. And sure enough, as Zevran and Varawen got closer, it became more than clear that it was indeed the prospect of a tasty meal that was guiding the mabari.

One of the perks on having a Dalish hunter as a leader meant that they never went hungry.

Anophis was immersed in his task, watching the elk and turning it from time to time, making sure that each side was roasted sufficiently. He looked up when he heard Varawen's heavy breathing and immediately lunged forward, managing to grab him just moments before the mabari jumped into the fire.

"Varawen!" He pulled the hound back with a gentle scold. "You stupid beast. What did I say about not thinking with your stomach?"

Zevran chuckled while Varawen let out a soft whine, looking as ashamed as he could. Anophis patted the ground beside him and the mabari obediently lied down, tucking his paws under his body. His eyes remained alert, however, and glued to the elk.

"What a heartwarming sight!" Zevran walked around Varawen so that he could sit down close to the Warden. As he did so, he made sure to knock Anophis's leg with his knee. "What a pity the darkspawn are so eager to kill us! If only they could be scolded like wayward children too!"

"Wouldn't that make our task easier?" Anophis turned to him with a smile. "I'm surprised to see you awake so early."

"So am I. I can assure you, if it was my choice, I'd still be in my bedroll. It's much more comfortable than this cold ground." Zevran cast a deadly glare at Varawen, who blissfully ignored him. "I was under the impression Fereldans bred mabaris to protect them from foes, not from slumber."

“I heard that too. You'll have to ask Alistair. My people have nothing to do with mabaris.”

“Right.” Zevran's smile dropped as Leliana came to them. She said nothing beside a cheerful greeting and sat down across from them. What a gossip she'd turned out to be, always listening in on his and the Warden's conversations. “A shame. The Dalish would surely find these beasts helpful.”

“Aina thinks so too,” Anophis replied. Pulling off a piece of meat from the elk's ribs, he inspected it before tossing it over to Varawen. The hound gobbled it rather sloppily and started sniffing for more. “They are quite keen on the idea of gifting mabari puppies to the Dalish.”

“How generous of them.”

Zevran glanced around the camp, checking if the other Dalish elf was hiding somewhere nearby. Aina was quite young, and a good seven inches shorter than him too, yet they weren't someone Zevran wanted to anger. Though, in reality, that was almost an impossible task. Aina's blood ran as hot and wild as their spells and Zevran often found himself trying to contain his sarcasm when around Aina, lest he wanted to catch a fireball. With his face.

But Aina was nowhere to be seen, so Zevran quickly pushed them out of his mind. Turning back to Anophis, he plastered a smile on his face and leaned closer.

"You were hunting all night again, were you not?” He said, dropping his voice so low it was almost a purr. “Surely you must be tired. Consider this, my warden: I have some spiced wine in my tent. It's tastes of plums and apples, with just a dash of cinnamon: a divine drink worthy of a hero like yourself. I'm sure a sip or two of it will help you relax."

Anophis inclined his head slightly as he listened and for a moment, Zevran allowed himself to rejoice in victory. Perhaps Anophis had finally decided to let go of his stubbornness and follow his heart's desire? But just as he felt himself become lighter, with joy filling his chest, the Warden smiled and shook his head, and Zevran's world came crashing down, again.

"Thank you for the offer, Zevran,” Anophis laid a hand on his shoulder. Zevran leaned into the touch, almost unconsciously, but then, far too soon, Anophis moved away. “But a man of your refined taste would surely aim for a more interesting company. I'm rather dull, unfortunately, and your divine wine would be wasted on me."

Anophis turned towards the fore again, and silence settled between them. Zevran's heart, which only a moment ago had plummeted into his gut, now seemed to have gone up in his head, filling his ears with low thumping which drowned everything else - the cracking of the logs in the fire, Varawen's panting, Leliana's quiet humming, everything.

Zevran blinked once, then twice, then once more. He could sense that Leliana was staring at them through the flames. Through his misty vision, he could spot her leering grin which added even more salt to his wound. In an effort to conceal his disappointment, he got up on his feet and smoothed the front of his shirt.

"It seems like such a lovely morning," he said; mercifully, his voice was stable. It seemed like he could salvage some of his dignity, at least. "The mist and cold air do open one's lungs rather nicely, yes? I think I shall take a little walk." He gave Anophis a curt nod. "Do excuse me. Varawen, my friend, care to join me?"

The hound whined lazily and covered his eyes with a paw. Rejected once more. It seemed like mabari hounds did take after their masters.

Stifling a sigh, Zevran turned his back to the Warden and walked away. He was aware of how stiffly and clumsily he moved, which only prompted him to hasten his steps. The sooner he was out of Anophis's sight, the better. He could feel that someone - hopefully that damned warden! - was watching him. But he dared not turn back to make sure. He'd come off as desperate enough already.

The southern bank of the lake was the furthest he could go without leaving the camp. Zevran sat down on a patch of moist sand and gazed at the water. The lazy movement of the waves soothed him somewhat. But he knew it would take far more to kick Anophis out of his thoughts.

It had started out as a mere game, a welcome distraction. He'd never anticipated ending up in such a predicament. He'd actually never expected to live another day! The Wardens had a fearsome reputation throughout Thedas, and this particular one was already known for his deeds by the time Zevran was sent on his trail. Why should Zevran expect to meet him in battle and live? He had believed, up to the last moments of his ambush, that he'd be cut down mercilessly. But that was not what happened. Instead, he was welcomed into the Warden's band of misfits, albeit with some reservations at first.

Admittedly, Zevran had been rather cross that his suicide attempt had failed. He couldn't understand why Anophis had spared his life back then. Perhaps it was his drive to learn why he was deemed worthy of life that had truly brought the Warden Anophis to Zevran's attention. And as he learned more about the man, Zevran came to an unexpected conclusion.

He'd fallen in love.

Anophis was a fine-looking specimen. No one could deny that. While he was not a young man, being nearly a decade older than Zevran, Anophis liked to put some extra effort into his appearance. His clothes were always clean, and fit him rather nicely, and one could never catch him with even a single hair out of place.

Zevran could hardly be faulted for finding his gaze often pulled towards this handsome Dalish rogue. Soon enough, he was doing more than staring. Things had started off light-heartedly; Zevran would casually flirt and Anophis would respond amicably. Then they'd chuckle and retreat into their respective tents.

Zevran had been content with this … at first. He'd been curious to see how far he could push the Warden's buttons, to see if he could make this proud Dalish elf kneel before him – metaphorically and literally! - but he'd had no true desire for his wooing to actually be successful. Anophis was a handsome man; however, looks were not a solid base to build a relationship on. And as someone who'd been blessed with good looks as well, Zevran considered himself immune to the allure of a pretty face.

But when the soul behind that face was kind, warm and loving, when the hands were gripping him firmly but gently and lifting up after each battle, when the same lips that Zevran joked about kissing were stretched into a kind smile as Anophis offered Zevran a flask of brandy while they sat by the fire, when each new facet of Anophis only drew Zevran further in, falling in love was inevitable.

But it seemed it had only been inevitable for Zevran.


End file.
